


Don't Wake Up

by BlueRoboKitty



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal, Consensual Somnophilia, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Light Bondage, M/M, Oral, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 20:19:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8027611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueRoboKitty/pseuds/BlueRoboKitty
Summary: Keith doesn't know why he keeps going along with Lance's bright ideas, but he's too curious and too horny to help himself.





	Don't Wake Up

**Author's Note:**

> I finally wrote PWP. I'm strangely proud of this. Just a little something I wrote bit by bit during the past week between projects.

Lance told him there will be a sign. Explicit and unquestionable.

Keith and Lance don’t get to have sex as often as they like, what with protecting the universe and all the diplomatic responsibilities that come with the job. Every time the pair do have a moment together, Lance has something new he wants to try, and Keith just kind of rolls with it without much question. At least, Lance is a very attentive and communicative lover, never once letting Keith feel like he isn’t on equal footing despite his virgin inexperience, taking extra care that they are both satisfied with the night’s activities. Keith doesn’t really have any kinky preferences, none that he’s explored in depth, anyway; all he cares about is the face and the sounds Lance makes when he’s getting completely _wrecked,_ and Keith will do whatever it takes for him to get there.

Which is why he isn’t sure if he’s going to like this new kink of Lance’s at all.

There’s also the concern about consent, all things considering, but Lance has already assured him that he will be given a sign that Lance is completely on board with this, the go-ahead for Keith to just walk in and have at him.

 _“So what do I even do?”_ Keith recalls asking when Lance brought it all up.

 _“Whatever you want,”_ was the long and short of his answer. 

Which isn’t very helpful, truth be told.

Lance has been flirting with him hard all day, too, brushing up on him, blowing in his ear (because that’s not annoying at all), bending over in all kinds of weird ways, and just generally being completely  _Lance_ about letting Keith know that his body is ready. It’s annoying… but also endearing. Dorky as Lance is, he’s a fun dork, at least, and Keith’s heart skips a beat even as he rolls his eyes hard enough to all but pull a muscle in his brain.

He sighs again. It’s cold out in the Castle during the “night” hours when all is dark save for the faint blue glow of the lights along the floor. Keith was on his way to his own bedroom when he happened to pass by Lance’s and that’s how he’s here now, staring at the piece of paper taped to the door.

The “sign”.

A literal sign. A crudely drawn face winking and blowing a kiss with hearts, an invitation for Keith with all the subtly of a brick to the head. He may as well have written “come and get me, baby!” in large – oh, wait, there it is, he actually wrote it in large black letters. Huh. Keith would expect someone like Lance to write in horrific chicken scratch, but his penmanship is actually very readable, almost bubbly.

No less embarrassing to look at, however. God, what if the others saw this? And Keith is pretty sure they have, they all live in the same Castle, sleep in the same hallway. Their relationship isn’t a secret or anything, but Keith would much rather keep the more intimate details just between him and his shameless boyfriend, thanks. He remembers Lance saying to wait about twenty minutes or so once he sees the sign, but Keith’s evening training has lasted longer than he intended; it’s been at least three hours since everyone parted ways for the evening after dinner, enjoying some well-earned respite before their next battle or rescue mission. 

Shaking his head, he goes to his room and showers. Keith would have gone straight inside and be done with it, but Lance is always complaining about his apparently pungent post-combat training sweat. Pungent. _Rude._

At least it’s a good opportunity for some _extra_ preparation. Keith is pretty sure how this night is going to end, at least.

When Keith returns to Lance’s bedroom about half an hour later, he’s freshly showered, wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants he bummed from humanoid alien who was about his size some time ago. He’s even brushed his teeth for good measure. This time, the door slides open as he steps inside. It’s not much brighter than the rest of the dark Castle, lights along the top of the bed illuminating the room in soft aqua. Lance is asleep in his bed, sprawled out on his back like someone threw him there, fully clothed in those pajamas that once belonged to the previous Blue Paladin, the lower half of his body hidden beneath his blanket. He’s not wearing his headphones or his mud mask, another explicit sign that he's waiting for Keith since he _never_ goes to bed without these things when he sleeps alone. Beauty sleep and all that.

For a moment, Keith just stands there staring at him. He shuffles his feet a little, cracks his knuckles with soft pops, really unsure where to go from here.

Whatever he wants, huh?

_“Okay, but what if I’m actually like into some really weird shit? Would you be okay with that?”_

He can still feel the gentle kiss Lance placed on his nose. It wasn’t something he expected from his smartass boyfriend, who could have used this opportunity to poke fun of Keith’s inexperience. Instead, Lance just gave that self-assured smile of his, the one he wears when he thinks he doesn't have to think through his ideas. 

_“I trust you.”_

This may be a mistake giving him this much power. Not that Keith is worried about hurting Lance or anything. No, he’s more worried about, well, disappointing him. Lance has never done this before, either, it’s just some fantasy he has every now and again. What if he’s completely romanticized it, and the reality just ends up weirding them both out?

Oh, well. He’s here now. Keith takes a deep breath and steps closer to the bed, heart thundering in his chest until he’s sure it’s gonna burst right out. Slowly, he reaches out and pulls the blanket off Lance. The other shifts a little, but otherwise doesn’t stir. His breathing remains deep and his torso rises and falls at an even rhythm.

Keith licks a bead of sweat off his lip. He can do whatever he wants.

So long as he doesn't wake Lance up. That's the whole point, after all.

This is a little too much freedom because he has no idea _what_ to do with it. It’s not that Keith doesn’t fantasize about sex when he has a moment to himself, it’s just that he’s not entirely sure how to translate these things into reality. He’s relied a bit too much on Lance to set the mood first, take the lead for a little while so Keith can follow until he’s comfortable and confident, Lance kissing and touching all over his body, driving him crazy, and then Keith can’t take anymore and just _ravages_ him, all tongue and teeth and nails.

This isn’t really a rough sex kind of atmosphere here. Lance looks so peaceful, and Keith feels bad disturbing that peace regardless of his boyfriend’s expectations. It’s not like they get many moments like these while they are out on “space patrol” as Lance calls it. Right now, drifting through space, all is still and it just didn’t seem right to take it away. This is probably the first time he’s getting a good sleep like this in a long while.

Lance really is cute, isn’t he? Keith swallows. ‘Cute’ doesn’t do him justice. Thick lashes rest over his bronze cheeks, and his mouth is open ever so slightly, lips pouty. There’s a tiny scar on his bottom lip where Keith bit him a little too hard during one of their first makeout sessions when things got really hot and heavy. Mmm, Keith wants to kiss him now and he can if he wants, but that might wake him up. Keith continues to stare at that face, instead, his gaze tracing the curve of his nose and the sharp line of his jaw, and then Keith realizes he aches and his erection is pressing against the loose fabric of his sweatpants.

Do what he wants… hoo boy. Lance isn’t implying Keith just stand there staring at his boyfriend like a creep, either. Beat off while watching him sleep? Oh, God, ew. The more ticks that, well, tick by, the more awkward Keith feels, and the more he expects Lance to just suddenly wake up and yell at him for not doing anything.

 _“Use those survival instincts of yours!”_ Lance would say.

Keith isn’t sure how they would even apply. He’s not fighting Lance, he’s just trying to… something. He swallows again, his throat very, very dry. He wants to run into the bathroom for a drink of water, but he knows he’s just stalling. Shit, he really should have grabbed that bottle of alien wine before coming in here. Too late now; the wine cellar is on the other side of the Castle. And if he leaves, Lance may take that as him ending this little scenario.

With tentative fingers, Keith gently strokes the strands of Lance’s brown hair. Once again, Lance shifts a little, leaning into Keith’s touch, and makes the tiniest little mewl in his throat.

Ah, now there’s a spark of inspiration. Because when Keith finally pushes past all the noise of his brain overthinking things, there’s only one thing he ultimately wants.

Keith kneels by the bed, placing the lightest of butterfly kisses along Lance’s neck, so light, so careful not to wake him, and his other hand slowly and carefully pulls Lance’s shirt up his torso. He traces his fingers upward along the ridges of Lance’s slender abdomen, feels the muscle quiver beneath his touch, up farther until he spreads his palm over the expanse of his chest. His skin is so smooth and soft, which is unsurprising considering the sheer amount of effort Lance puts into his self-care. Keith’s nose is buried in the crook of his neck as he sucks on the sharp collar bone, leaving a deep red mark, and making Lance moan just beneath his breath. He smells of lavender and citrus. He tastes sweet and tangy and warm all at once. Intoxicating.

Keith’s index finger ghosts over a dusky nipple in little circles, each gentle rotation hardening it to a nub before he pinches ever so lightly. Lance whines, and Keith grows harder. Fuck, even asleep, Lance still makes those sounds that drive Keith into a frenzy. Mmm, this does feel like a challenge, like what else can he do to wreck Lance without actually waking him? Okay, that’s far more familiar territory. He can work with this.

He smirks into the tiny hickies he’s placing over Lance’s neck and collar as he flicks the nipple and draws out another sound. He’s about seventy-percent convinced Lance actually is awake at this point, because who wouldn’t be, Keith would have woken up the moment his door opened. Even so, Lance does a pretty good job of acting like he’s still asleep, thin eyebrows knitted closer together and mouth opening more as he squirms slightly, but otherwise there is no other reaction.

Lance jokes about how he’s the handsomest of the group, but Keith wonders if he truly realizes just how _pretty_ he actually is. It’s his obnoxious pickup artist attitude that drives his crushes away, not his looks, definitely _not_ his looks. After all, he’s managed to draw Keith in like a moth to a flame in spite of the stupidity that comes out of his mouth.

Keith crawls onto the bed to straddle Lance’s hips, both hands playing with his nipples now but his touch remains feathery-light, not wanting to wake Lance with too much sensation. Lance moans again, lifting his head back and arching his neck a little, and Keith wishes it wasn’t so poorly lit in here so he can see the beautiful marks he’s made. Lance is going to kill him in the morning, having his skin marred like this. Keith licks his lips. He can most certainly _try,_ at least.

Keith leaves Lance’s nipples hard and abandoned as he tenderly drags his hands back down the planes of his slender body. Lance doesn’t look that much older than nineteen, but he’s certainly filled out more thanks to all the never-ceasing training and fighting they’ve been doing over the course of the few years they’ve been out in deep space. He even has a little night scruff growing along his chin, and Keith just kinda wants to lean down and rub his face against it.

Maybe later when they cuddle. He has other plans. Now that the cork on his confidence has finally popped out, all kinds of filthy ideas are flooding Keith’s brain.

He reaches out and pulls the golden sash off of Lance's bathrobe hanging at the end of the bed. Then, slowly, almost agonizingly so, he leans over Lance’s body, feeling their heat mingle as he very carefully ties Lance’s wrists together. The knot isn’t tight, something Lance can easily wiggle out of with average effort, but complete restraint isn’t the point here. This is just to discourage Lance from _reciprocating_ once things get underway if he does happen to wake up.

His mouth takes one nipple, nipping so light, so gentle, swirling his tongue. Lance mewls again, and Keith loves how sensitive he is, everywhere, all the time. Keith’s not one for gentle foreplay, and fuck, he’s so tempted to just suck hard on Lance until he comes in a writhing mess. But he refrains. This is interesting, doing something different, doing what Lance does when they usually have a tryst together. He abandons one nipple to harden even more as the saliva cools off over the nub, to pay attention to the other. Then he licks over his chest, giving both nipples a light pinch before moving his tongue down. Lance’s stomach jumps when Keith dips into his bellybutton. So cute, fuck.

Keith sits up again, and his breath hitches as he traces along the shallow crevice of Lance’s Apollo belt to the waistband of his pants and pulls. Lance shivers.

He’s so gorgeous, _God_ , Keith feels the heat flare from his face when that cock peeks at him from within dark curls, neatly trimmed because Lance doesn’t allow a single strand of hair on his body be out of place. He’s uncut, too, coming from a _very_ traditional Catholic family, apparently, not very hard yet despite Keith’s ministrations on his nipples. At first, Keith just strokes along Lance’s inner thighs, watching his dick twitch and feeling the goosebumps form beneath his fingers. His cock twitches again when Keith brushes just beneath his balls, teasing the bundle of sensitive nerves on his taint, and he smirks again at the resulting _“Nnnn!”_ from the peanut gallery.

This gentle play continues for a few minutes or longer, petting his thighs, ghosting back over his taint, and then to his thighs again, watching as that cock starts to push the foreskin back by the centimeter as it grows. Keith’s fingers stop teasing him only to stroke along the underside of that beautiful dick that’s just a little too flaccid for his liking. Lance wiggles more, and that encourages Keith to wrap his hand around the base and roll his wrist in little circles, thumbing just beneath the tip. It’s fascinating how Lance erection grows right in his palm as Keith coaxes him to fullness, head emerging dark pink and dripping from its sheath.

Lance moans again. It’s such a filthy sound that makes Keith ache even more. If only he has something to record with, to capture all the sounds Lance can create and replay them forever.

He risks speeding up just a bit, and Lance bites his bottom lip, rolling his head to the side and opening his thighs more, and his wrists pull against the sash just a little bit. It’s too dark to see, but Keith imagines his face is flushed a beautiful shade of pink just like his cock. He keeps with this torturous pace, fast enough to bring Lance pleasure but too slow to bring him to climax any time soon. Lance is fully erect now, foreskin pulled all the way back and precum leaking in little beads from the slit. He’s longer than Keith though not as thick, but still incredibly satisfying. Unable to help himself any longer, Keith leans down and slowly licks the stick liquid off the tip, and Lance squirms again with a tiny _“oh!”_

Keith’s heart slams against his ribcage, adrenaline pumping through him as he dances on that fine line between taking what he wants and keeping Lance from waking up. The heady scent is a drastic difference from his usually fresh fragrance and that difference messes with Keith’s head. Just a little will be fine, he thinks, as he coats his own tongue with saliva and takes Lance into his mouth.

Lance gasps and curls his spine, so Keith backs off slightly. He sucks slowly and softly, resisting taking Lance all the way in, drive him absolutely nuts. Lance loves oral, giving and receiving. And he’s so, _so_ _good_ at receiving. Keith is barely touching him, and Lance’s chest heaves with each heavy breath he takes, and his moans are soft.

Not quite enough.

Lance wetly pops out of Keith, his head glistening with precum and spit, and the owner of that desperate cock _whines._

Getting closer.

What kind of filthy dreams must Lance be having right about now?

Keith sucks lightly on Lance again, gently, gently, tonguing and mouthing with tender abandon. He feels Lance stiffen more, his balls tighten, and Keith backs up immediately. With a smirk only he is aware of, he softly strokes Lance’s thighs as the signs of Lance’s pending climax began to wane. Lance whines again; fuck, Keith will never tire of that sound.

This is torture. Sweet, delicious torture. _I want you, I want you, the sounds you make, give them to me, give me all of them…_

With his mouth and one hand, Keith slowly brings Lance back to full erection. Backs off when Lance's body threatens to bring him to orgasm. Lather, rinse, repeat. And each time, Lance releases the most pathetic, pleading moans, begging Keith in his sleep to finish him already. Keith's entire being is on fire, sweat dripping down his face as he tortures his mouthy boyfriend and himself in the process.

Lance's hips roll and he keens and Keith can't take anymore.

He abandons Lance to tear off his sweatpants and slather lube all over his fingers. He may have prepared himself in the shower, but he loosens himself just a bit more, one finger then two, sliding easily into his own pucker and adding fresh lubricant inside, so ready for Lance. It's a little awkward and embarrassing, and doesn't compare to how Lance usually works him open, but it does feel good and Keith's stomach tightens with anticipation.

His fingers definitely do not compare to the fullness of Lance's cock slowly entering him. Keith loves this part the best, like every inch of him is consumed by Lance, his body burning so hot, so good. “Lance…” Keith can't hold back a whine of his own as he straddles Lance's lap with that cock buried deep inside, looking down at his sleeping lover.

Beautiful. Just…

Keith moves. He rolls his hips, rising slowly. Then down. Rolls back up. Down again. Lance stirs and groans to the rhythm of Keith's thrusts, pulling at his restraints.

“Keith…” he gasps, not opening his eyes. _“Oooh,_ babe, please let me touch you.”

Keith chuckles darkly, moving faster. “Shhh, no way, you're supposed to be asleep.”

Lance grins in his “sleep”. “Asshole.”

“Sounds to me like you can't get enough of this asshole.”

“Damn mullet runs his mouth even when he's being a little dream slut - _oh shi -!”_

Keith changes his angle, driving Lance even deeper into him. The head hits against Keith's prostate and it's all he can do to keep from coming then and there.

All bets are off. Lance has kind of ruined the immersion anyway.

Keith's name tears out of Lance and he arches and struggles against the sash as Keith rides him hard. Flesh slapping with each bounce of Keith's ass against Lance's thighs mingle with the obscene sounds they both make in their ignited pleasure. Lance is so fucking loud, and it only inspires Keith to force him to be louder.

Keith fists his own throbbing erection and pumps in time to his thrusts. “Too bad you're asleep,” he growls, “you can watch me jerk off while I fuck myself on your cock.”

“Fuuuuuuck,” Lance moans. “You aren't this evil when I'm awake. Can I wake up now?”

“Mmmmm, but then I won't be here. This is just a dream, remember?” Keith puts an extra-filthy emphasis on his moan, running a hand through his raven black hair as he rocks hard. “How does it feel, Lance? Do I still feel as good when you're awake?”

“God fuck, Keith…” Lance whimpers.

“A god fuck? Damn, real me is gonna be jealous of that.”

“You're so fucking tight, so hot, _annnh-haaaaah...”_ Lance continues to babble as if he doesn't hear or is choosing to ignore Keith's remark. He thrusts wildly up into Keith's body, out of sync, desperate, and then liquid heat spills deep into Keith, coating his insides with his seed.

The sharp arch of Lance's spine, his head lolled back and face twisted in climax, and the sound he makes as he comes so hard resonating with each fiber of Keith's being…

Keith flies over the edge as orgasm all but blows him apart, violent and red like always, the sight of Lance, his smell, the sounds he makes, it all unravels Keith at the seams, spilling everything out. When Keith recovers, hazy with afterglow, he sees Lance panting hard and covered in his cum, eyes still closed. With a sigh, Keith pulls Lance out of him, spunk trailing down his inner thighs.

“You can wake up now,” Keith says softly.

Strong hands grab him and yank him down before wrapping tight around him. “I don't wanna wake up,” Lance murmurs against his hair before planting a warm kiss there, and the light scruff of his face as soft as Keith imagined. 

“Real me will be pissed.”

“Real you is always pissed, that ain't new.”

Keith rolls up to stare down at Lance, and his eyes are open as he grins up at him, eyes blue like the Earth’s oceans, dark with bliss. “Okay, seriously,” Keith says, “How long have you been awake?”

“First time or second time?”

“You fell back asleep?!”

Lance rolls his eyes with a groan. “You took so long to make up your mind when you came in, so yeah, I kinda fell back asleep. And then I woke up again when I was about to come that first time and you stopped.” Lance pouts. _“Not cool,_ by the way.”

“You said I could do whatever I wanted!”

“Yeah, my body was fully prepared for whips and chains not _evil.”_

Keith pouts back. It’s the one thing they both know he can do better. “Aw,” he purrs, and delights in the sharp gasp Lance makes when his hips slowly roll over his sensitive cock. “But you make the _best_ noises when I’m torturing you.”

Lance’s breath hitches, and he tugs Keith down for deep kiss.

“Sadistic bastard.”


End file.
